Inside the Rainbow
by FifthAttempt
Summary: St. Patrick's Day at the Old Haunt. Everyone is there, including some surprising visitors who send Castle on a trip. A short for St. Patrick's day. I wrote this story very quickly, please forgive any choppiness, disparities, mis-spellings, or inaccuracy.
The Old Haunt was festooned in green and orange crepe paper. Paper shamrocks, harps, pots of gold, rainbows, and leprechauns danced above, just out of reach. The smells of corned beef, cabbage, soda bread, colcannon, and all sorts of other Irish foods wafted through the bar. Castle wandered through, checking things out, and then went back to the kitchen.

"Corned beef?" he looked at his chef.

"Enough to feed all of Manhattan. We have, as well, potatoes, turnips, cabbage, carrots, soda bread and those Guinness cakes with Bailey's buttercream you like so much. The buffet won't run out, I guarantee it." He continued, "We have appetizers made of Irish cheddar cheese, bacon, smoked salmon, salmon roe, smoked trout, ham, and butter crackers: pretty much a map of Ireland on the buffet."

"Ready to go at 7:00?"

"Ready to go now, if you want."

Castle nodded, and went to check the bar.

"So, we have Guinness, Killians Irish Red, Baileys, Jameson's?"

"We have it all boss. If it's Irish, or a reasonable facsimile, we have it."

In spite of reassurances of his staff, Castle was unconvinced. This was going to be the First Annual Old Haunt St. Patrick's Day Irish Fest: $40.00 per person, all you can eat buffet, first drink free. He wanted it to be a success.

He checked the wait staff. Green or orange vests – check: white, puffy sleeve shirts – check: knee britches – check: white stockings – check: black shoes with silver buckles – check.

"Dad." Alexis was standing by the cashier's station. "Don't you think you're getting just a bit too Irish cutesy?"

"There's no such thing." He looked worried. "Do you really think so?"

"Don't worry, Dad, everyone does it."

He looked even more worried. He hated to be cliché.

"At least the beer isn't green, or is it?" Kate had arrived. "Nothing says cliché like green beer."

Rick smiled, relieved that she had decided to attend. "When do you think Ryan and Esposito will get here?"

"Shouldn't be long, they left when I did. Ryan's picking Jenny up and Esposito said he had an errand to run."

"Good, good. I have some things to do, so get some food, drinks, what have you." He headed for the bar. _"Kill the green beer,"_ he whispered to the barkeeper.

Several people walked in, carrying musical instruments – violin, bodhran, bagpipes, mandolin, Irish harp – and dancing shoes. Castle went to greet them.

"Glad you're here. What are you planning to play?"

"We'll play a selection of traditional tunes, stuff by O'Carolan and the like. We thought we'd do some Irish dance, maybe teach people some basic steps. You know, make it fun."

Rick showed them to the stage area, next to a small dance floor. "I hope this will be enough room," he said, thinking that there might be a problem if they decided to go full on Riverdance.

The band leader looked around. "It's a little tight, but we'll make it work." They began to set up. The dancers started testing the limits of the dance floor. The musicians tuned up.

Alexis and Kate had settled in a large corner booth and had been joined by Martha. Castle looked fondly at his two favorite redheads and his favorite tall, leggy brunette.

Promptly at 7:00, Castle opened the bar. The musicians started playing _Danny Boy._ Ryan and his wife, Jenny, were the first through the door, followed by Esposito and Lanie. They joined Kate and the others in their booth.

By 8:00 the party was in full swing. It looked like it was going to be a good night. The band was playing _Shi Bheag, Shi Mhor_ . Castle noticed two people walk in – a tall, slender, silver-haired, gray-eyed young man – his hair long enough to cover his ears and obscure his eyebrows – wearing brown leather pants, a soft, flowing white shirt which was opened to display a very well-muscled chest, and motorcycle boots. He was accompanied by a short, slender young woman with long black hair and the most startling blue eyes he had ever seen. She was wearing a pale green peasant blouse, a full black skirt with a wide leather belt and ghillies.

The two started dancing. Everyone else in the bar stopped what they were doing and watched – it was impossible not to watch.

The effect was hypnotic. It was transporting.

Castle was transported.

He found himself lying on his back looking up at an impossibly blue sky. He sat up warily. He was not, he noticed, wearing his jeans and green and white plaid shirt. He took stock. He had on a hat that, on checking, looked like a rust-colored pancake with a brim, a full-sleeved, full-fitting sort of tan shirt, over that he wore a long, brown, shapeless vest. His pants had become some sort of faded gray-blue pantaloon affair that stopped and gathered at the knee. His no-color socks met his pants at the knee and kind of stayed there, but were irritatingly wrinkled at the ankles and his shoes were big, brown, buckskin things that laced up around his calves and tied at the back. He had a braided rope belt around his waist, from which dangled a sadly empty pouch. He looked like a refugee from a Renaissance Faire. He heard giggling and looked to see where it came from.

Two very small people looked back, pointed, and giggled again. They were, he thought, not much bigger than cats, well-proportioned, and good-looking. The young woman looked like Alexis, the man like Ryan.

"What is this place and who, or what, are you?" He looked at them questioningly. "And, more to the point, why am I here? How did I get here?"

There was more giggling. They held up something that looked suspiciously like an American Express Card – _his_ American Express Platinum Card, to be exact, and ran off.

He tore off after them. He wanted his card back – and he wanted answers. He tripped over a rock, tumbled down a hill, and landed in an icy, cold stream. He pulled himself out of the stream and saw them sitting, innocently, on a rock. The little Alexis spoke, "Three tests you must meet, and three challenges defeat. Three lessons you must learn. Only then may you return."

"I'm dreaming," he muttered. "This is an Irish whiskey induced dream."

"This is neither dream nor phantasm," the tiny Ryan said, "But a challenge you must take to achieve your desire."

"You're not rhyming. Why don't you rhyme?"

"Rhyming is her thing. Ask me a question, I'll answer straight and quick, if I answer at all. With her, you might have to wait a while, until she finds a word that fits."

"Ok, I'll bite. What are these challenges I'm supposed to face? And what are you, anyway, leprechauns?"

"The challenges are the challenges of Maiden, Mother, and Crone." Said the diminutive Ryan. "You must take an apple from the Maiden, give a child to the Mother, and receive a gift from the Crone."

Mini-Alexis spoke, "The challenges three, do easy be. Though hard if you make them so. We've talked enough, now we must go." They disappeared. They never did say what they were.

He realized that his clothes were dry and he actually felt pleasantly warm. There was a path along the stream. He figured it wouldn't hurt to follow it. About a mile downstream, he came to a meadow. Across the meadow he could see a small house, very much like something you'd see in a child's book of fairy tales – small, white, thatched roof, surrounded by flowers, a cat in the window, and a striking young woman in the yard. She looked remarkably like Kate: long, brown hair, large hazel eyes, high cheekbones, strong features. She was wearing a flowing, white and silver velvet gown, white and silver flowers in her hair and she was holding an apple.

The micro-Alexis had said that the tests would be easy, only hard if he made them so. It would be easy, he thought, to just run up, grab the apple, and run away with it. But if this Maiden were anything like Kate, she had a right cross that would have him seeing stars, so that might not be the easy way to do it. He thought for a moment more, then walked up to the house, up to her, went down on one knee, and said, "Pardon, my lady, but could you, would you, please … give me an apple?" She looked at him for a moment and then laughed. He loved that laugh. Then she bent down, kissed him on top of the head and gave him the apple. The scene faded away.

He found himself on the outskirts of a village. The place was typical of the romanticized versions of Medieval English/Scottish/Irish villages, with historically inaccurate Tudor timbers, thatched roofs, and cobblestone streets. He walked slowly into the village until he saw a woman who looked much like his ex-wife Meredith. She was wearing red and gold silk. She looked frantic.

This was, clearly, the mother. He paused for a moment. How was he going to give this woman a child? Was he supposed to take her to bed? What if she didn't want to? He couldn't do it if she didn't want to. Besides, it would feel like he was being disloyal to Beckett, even if there wasn't anything substantial between them.

She looked even more frantic. She was looking around as if she had lost something … or someone.

He heard something like a child's cry. It seemed to be coming from behind the wall to his left. He quickly walked to the wall and climbed up. Looking down from the top, he saw a small, red-haired girl, barely more than three years old. She looked so much like Alexis at that age. He jumped down and walked slowly to her. She looked up at him, stopped crying, and smiled radiantly – he'd always been a sucker for that smile. She put her arms out to him and he picked her up. He looked around for a way out, he wasn't about to climb the wall while carrying a little girl. He smiled at her and gave her a hug, which she returned enthusiastically. He noticed a gate not six feet away. As he approached it, it swung open. He exited onto the street and walked towards the woman in red. He tapped her on the shoulder. As she turned, he held the child out to her. She took her without a word, holding her tenderly. He turned to walk away.

She followed until she caught up and stopped him. She went up on tiptoe, kissed his cheek and disappeared.

This was, he thought, getting really disorienting. He was now in a thick, dark forest. He knew it was full day, but the old-growth pines shut out most of the light. There was no real trail, he just sort of went around the trees hoping to find a way out.

He rounded one tree and ran into someone, knocking her down.

"Damn, I mean darn, I mean, I'm sorry." He took on of her hands and put his other arm around her shoulders and helped her up. "I'm really sorry, I should have been more careful."

She was a beautiful, older woman, for all intents and purposes, his mother's double. She was dressed in black, silver, and gold brocade.

"Are you going somewhere? Is there something I can do for you?"

She smiled. "Yes, could you escort me to my home? It's a long way and I'm afraid I'm very tired.

It was a long way. By the time they reached the cottage at the edge of the forest that she called home, it was dusk. He was tired. He could imagine how exhausted she must be. He opened the door for her and helped her inside. He noticed a small, rustic kitchen to the right and decided that he should make her some tea, or something. He turned to go in. There was a kettle already steaming over the fire in the fire place. He looked around for teabags and a cup. He found a large teapot and a container of loose tea. He washed the pot out with hot water, scooped in some of the tea, and poured the water over it. He rummaged until he found a tray and a fragile looking teacup and saucer of black, silver, and gold porcelain. He put the tea, the cup and saucer, a spoon, a small pitcher of milk, and a small dish of sugar on the tray and carried it out to her. At this point, he didn't really care about a gift, he was concerned that she was overtired and might be unwell. She looked at the tray and then at him and smiled warmly. Unsure of what else to do, he continued to stand. She looked his way again and motioned for him to sit.

He sat.

She sipped her tea slowly, deliberately, and with evident enjoyment. Finally, she sighed and closed her eyes.

He continued to sit.

When it seemed as if she must have fallen asleep, she opened her eyes, got up, and walked towards a small table. She took something off the table and brought it back to the seating area. She held it out to him. "Please, take this."

"I couldn't take anything, ma'am."

"It's been waiting for you. It's been yours since the beginning. Take it."

He took it.

The cottage and everything and everyone in it disappeared.

He found himself back where he started. He looked at what she had given him – a small, perfect, red heart. A heart to go with the apple. He looked at both of them and smiled.

"You've passed the challenges." Little Ryan said. "You've learned the lessons – respect, kindness, and caring. You can go home." Little Alexis smiled and threw something sparkling at him. He looked around, he was inside a rainbow that was growing denser and more colorful.

He was sitting in a dark wood booth in a bar listening to Irish music. He was looking at an improbably beautiful couple dancing. They suddenly stopped, looked straight at him, and disappeared. He shook his head slightly and looked again. It was as if they had never been there. No one else had noticed. He looked at Kate and smiled. She smiled back and got up, "Alexis, we should learn some of those steps, come on." Alexis joined her. Everyone was up and dancing. He was alone in the booth, but he didn't feel alone; he felt warm, loved, and happy. He looked at the table and saw a small, gold box. Inside he found three things: a small golden apple, a tiny picture of a red-haired child, and a small, heart-shaped ruby. He put them back in the box, put it in his shirt pocket, and smiled.


End file.
